


Down to a Sunless Sea

by fredbassett



Series: Stephen/Ryan series [58]
Category: Primeval
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-12
Updated: 2013-11-12
Packaged: 2018-01-01 07:48:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1042228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fredbassett/pseuds/fredbassett
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lester and Lyle go caving.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Down to a Sunless Sea

“Jon, kindly observe the speed limit. I have no desire whatsoever to explain to a member of Her Majesty’s constabulary why I am being driven through Bristol dressed in nothing more than my underwear and a furry-suit decorated with pink elephants.”

Lyle grinned and obligingly moderated his speed. “Don’t you like your birthday present?”

Lester looked down at the bright blue, one-piece fleece suit he was wearing, in anticipation of a caving trip, and managed to restrain an amused smile. He had to admit that his old undersuit had seen better days, but he hadn’t been expecting to receive something quite as unusual as a replacement. He also couldn’t even begin to imagine where the hell the gear shop on the Mendips that catered for the local caving and climbing fraternity had managed to get the material from, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to know either. His only consolation came from the fact that Lyle, dressed in a green fleece covered with Dalmatian puppies, was in no position to make fun of him.

“It’s delightful, darling. Now would you mind explaining where the hell we’re going and why we couldn’t just get changed when we get there?”

Lyle pulled the Range Rover over to the side of the road next to what looked like a small park beside to a housing estate in north Bristol. “I don’t think the residents would enjoy seeing you in your silk boxers by the side of the road, sweetie.”

Lester stared around him in amazement, then noticed the road sign Lyle had parked next to: Pen Park Road. His eyes widened and he couldn’t stop himself from grinning. This was going to make Ralph jealous.

“So how did you managed to get the key to this place?”

Lyle grinned. “It’s who you know that counts, petal, as you keep telling me. I acted as back-up on a diving trip here a few years ago and helped with some climbing as well. I borrowed the key when I came into town yesterday. We need to drop it back on the way back to the cottage.”

With a quick look around to check that there was no one taking too much of an interest in what they were doing, Lester reached around to the back seat and hauled his oversuit out of his caving bag and started to pull it on while Lyle, unabashed, got out of the car and started kitting up on the pavement, heedless of the stares of an old lady on the other side of the road, walking an overweight Yorkshire Terrier.

Five minutes later, Lyle was flat on his stomach in the middle of a shrubbery on one side of the park, his arm through a hole in something that looked suspiciously like a man-hole cover. Eventually, after a certain amount of inventive swearing, Lyle sat up and tugged the heavy lid open to reveal a short section of concrete pipe with a metal ladder leading downwards.

Lyle stood up and waved his hand at the hole in the ground. “After you. I need to lock up once we’re in, in case any of the local kids get nosy.”

Lester grabbed one of the two tackle-bags Lyle had carried over to the entrance and climbed down the ladder. He dropped to his knees at the bottom of the piped shaft and crawled through a hole to the top of another ladder, this time sloping at a 45 degree angle down a muddy slope. With the tackle-bag slung over his shoulder, Lester swung his legs down onto the ladder and climbed down a distance of about four metres into a small chamber to await Lyle’s arrival.

The next section of passage was something he immediately recognised as being the product of mining activity in the eighteenth century. A short ‘coffin level’, so named because of its shape, stretched away for about three metres before giving way to another, larger, chamber, with an impressive set of crystals lining the walls. Lester stared around him in amazement. It was like standing in the middle of a geode.

“They were looking for lead,” Lyle commented, following Lester into the chamber.

Lester nodded. He remembered Ralph talking about this place, years ago, when they’d been at university together in Bristol, but in those days there had been no access to the cave and the entrance had been buried under several tons of concrete. He remembered Ralph saying that access had eventually been negotiated with the City Council by the University club as part of the redevelopment of the public open space which now surrounded the entrance, but by then he’d been working in London and hadn’t caved in years, and Ralph had been doing an extended stint as a consultant geologist in a South African diamond mine.

Lyle took the lead, squeezing through a narrow gap on one side of the chamber and pulling the tackle-bag after him. Lester followed him through the constriction and two more squeezes into a much larger chamber with an impressive calcite cascade on the left, flowing like a frozen river over the rocks and pooling at their base.

He stared around him, immediately conscious of being in a much bigger space.

“Mind the drop,” cautioned Lyle, his words sounding hollow in what was obviously an enormous cavern.

Lester took a cautious step forwards and flicked a switch on his head-torch to set it to its highest power, sending a powerful beam out, lancing through the darkness. The sheer size of the chamber he was looking into made him gasp. They were standing on a ledge about two-thirds of the way up a massive cavern. The opposite wall was something like 20 metres away, and the floor of the chamber was a hell of a long way below where he was standing.

He stared upwards, remembering that in 1775 an unfortunate accident had taken place when a clergyman, picnicking with his fiancé and one of her friends, had found a hole in the ground and, to get a better look, he had grabbed hold of the branch of a nearby tree and leaned out to stare down into the depths of the earth. The branch had broken and he’s plummeted to his death. It had taken two days to recover his body.

“Way to go to ruin a party,” commented Lyle. “Mind you, I’ve often wondered what the bugger had been up to.”

Lester quirked an eyebrow in curiosity. He knew the bare bones of the story, but not the details.

“He’d been preaching at St Mary Redcliffe church the day before,” explained Lyle. “According to the unfortunate Reverend Newnam, sinners would be cast into the deepest pit of damnation. Ironic, really.”

Lester laughed. “Maybe he had designs on a threesome with his fiancé’s friend.”

“Good job we’re pure in spirit,” Lyle grinned. He opened the tackle-bag and pulled out three coiled metal ladders, then proceeded to clip the first one into a large ring-bolt on the section of roof over the head of the pitch.

“What’s the drop?” Lester asked, staring down into the darkness.

“About eight metres to a ledge, then from there it’s about 25 metres to the floor of the chamber. The first part of the pitch is a bit awkward, the ladder’s got a nasty habit of twisting around. After that it’s a piece of piss. The wall of the chamber slopes, it’s muddy, but the ladder’s against it all the way down. You won’t have a problem. Trust me, sweetie.”

Lester rolled his eyes. “Trust you, you’re an army officer? Well, it’s marginally more reassuring than ‘trust me, I’m a lawyer’, but I know what your idea of a piece of piss is like, darling. You said that about the Narrows in Charterhouse, remember?”

Lyle threw the long chain of coiled ladders over the edge of the pitch and they heard them rattle away into the darkness. The next thing out of the bag was a long rope, which Lyle attached to a different bolt before clipping a short length of rope known to cavers as a ‘cow’s tail’ onto a third bolt and attaching the other end to his belt.

“Enough for a double-line?” Lester queried, wondering how Lyle was intending to stage-manage a safe descent for both of them.

The soldier shook his head and started to pull a climbing harness on and attach various pieces of kit to it. “I’ll self-line.”

Lester clipped a loop of rope into his own belt and waited for Lyle to confirm he was ready to start life-lining him down. At Lyle’s nod, he took hold of the ladder, leaned out for a look over the lip to see what he was going to encounter, then started climbing. His lover had been right. A couple of metres down the thin-runged metal ladder with narrow wire sides, it developed a life of its own and twisted alarmingly. He let out a sharp curse, thrown off balance for a moment, even though he’d been expecting it, forewarned by Lyle. The rope attached to his belt held him reassuringly tight until he regained his downward rhythm, feet finding the next rungs until he was standing on a narrow ledge. For all his flippant manner, Jon Lyle was a rock-solid life-liner and knew just how much rope to play out to keep the line comfortably taut without making progress difficult. Lester kept himself reasonably fit, playing squash when he got the chance, and caving with Lyle at least once a month, but he was on the wrong side of forty now, and fitness came at a higher price.

The second part of the climb was easier. The ladder lay against a muddy slope, as Lyle had said, and the rest of the descent was accomplished without difficulty. At the bottom he yelled, “Down!” and stepped away from the ladder. He unclipped himself from the rope, called, “Rope free!” and then proceeded to examine his surroundings with interest.

The main chamber of the cave was even vaster than he’d imagined it would be. The beam of his head-torch, even on its strongest setting, was barely enough to illuminate the whole space. According to Lyle, the chamber was nearly 32 metres high and around 20 metres across: a space big enough to house two large churches, complete with towers, pilled one on top of the other. The cavity was the reason for the fact that the housing development in the area surrounded the cave, but didn’t overlie the main chamber at all, as the depth of earth was too shallow to take the weight of any foundations.

Lester was conscious of the fact that a wide grin was forming on his face at the thought of regaling Ralph with the story of this trip. He knew perfectly well that his brother would be demanding a trip as well, as soon as possible. It was a strange feeling looking around the huge, silent chamber, knowing that they were in the midst of a Bristol suburb, surrounded by houses, in a cave that very few people had visited since the Cornish miners of the eighteenth century had given up their search of lead.

He was standing on a wide, muddy bank that slopped gradually down to a deep pool taking up at least two thirds of the chamber. The dark, still waters shimmered in the lamp-light and looked strangely inviting.

“It’s about 12 metres deep,” commented Lyle, freeing his feet from the ladder and unclipping himself from the rope. “But there’s no way on. The rock closes in on all sides.”

“Any side passages?” Lester queried. He’d seen a survey a long time ago, but not recently enough to remember any details.

Lyle nodded. “Yep, we’ll take a look on the way out. They’re all as muddy as hell.”

“So I’m going to have to drive back to Mendip covered in mud?”

“Nope, you can get changed in my mate’s garage, if you want. “ Without warning, the soldier pulled him in for an open-mouthed kiss.

Lester slipped his arms around Lyle’s waist and returned the kiss and even through the bulky caving gear he could feel his lover’s cock hardening. Lyle’s tongue slid against his, plundering his mouth with an intoxicating abandon, and Lester’s own cock started to sit up and beg.

“You’re a prick-tease, sweetie,” he murmured, nipping at Lyle’s lower lip.

Lyle rubbed himself hard against Lester’s groin. “Nope, I’d only be a prick-tease if I wasn’t intending to follow through.”

Lester raised both eyebrows. “You’re bonkers, Jon, have I ever told you that?”

Lyle stepped back and started to undo his belt. “You have mentioned that once or twice. Come on, where’s your sense of adventure?”

“At home, in a box on the shelf marked ‘Handle with Care’.” But he had to admit that a certain part of his anatomy was taking a very distinct interest in watching his lover start to remove his caving gear, draping his oversuit over a large boulder and taking off his helmet to reveal spiky, sweat-soaked dark hair.

It wouldn’t be the first time they’d shagged underground, and Lester had to admit that the idea did have merit. They were on their own, with no prospect of being disturbed by anyone, and no time-pressure. Even an anomaly-alert couldn’t disturb them down here.

Lyle stripped off his Dalmatian-decorated undersuit, taking with it a pair of swimming shorts that had seen better days at least a decade ago, to stand naked in the mud covering the shore of the underground lake, hands on his hips, cock half-hard, grinning at the absurdity of what he was about to do.

Lester felt a sudden rush of warmth towards his young lover. Only a few months ago Lyle had come back from a bad operation that even Lester didn’t have a high enough security clearance to discuss, although he’d known full well that Lyle had barely escaped with his life. The marks of barbed-wire on the lieutenant’s forearms had told their own tale, and it had been several days before Lyle had been able to cope with any intimacy, and nearly a fortnight until they’d had full sex again. So to see Lyle now, as carefree and mischievous as he’d ever been, was enough to make Lester want to play too, heedless of the mud and cold water that would no doubt be involved.

While he stripped off his own gear, Lyle waded into the water then threw himself into a shallow dive, coming up several metres away with water streaming off his hair.

“What’s it like?” Lester asked, propping his helmet and light next to Lyle’s to provide enough illumination for their antics.

“Fucking freezing!” Lyle laughed.

Lester gasped at the shock of cold water on his legs, which promptly put paid to his burgeoning erection, but he’d been skinny-dipping in enough inappropriate places outdoors in his time to know that taking things slowly would only prolong the agony, so moments later he was surfacing next to Lyle, treading water while he slipped his arms around his lover’s waist and pulled him in for a messy, breathless kiss.

They swam a few strokes over to the far wall of the chamber and back, flipping water at each other like two kids in a swimming pool. The water was cold on their skin, but not unbearably so, and every time his body came into contact with Lyle’s Lester knew what he wanted.

He slipped his tongue into Lyle’s mouth, kissing him deeply, bodies pressed together, cocks half-hard again and murmured, “How do you fancy farting mud for the rest of the day, sweetie?”

“We can do better than that,” grinned Lyle. “Inside pocket of my oversuit. Planning and preparation ….”

“Prevents piss-poor performance,” finished Lester, clambering out of the water in search of what they needed, while Lyle sprawled in the mud, stroking his cock to full hardness.

A moment later, Lester flipped him onto his stomach, slicked his fingers quickly and drove them into his lover’s body, knowing he’d have to make this quick before they both got too cold to follow through on the preliminaries. Lyle groaned and pushed back against him, a needy whine signifying that Lester could dispense with any further preparation. He positioned himself between Lyle’s spread legs, knees sinking somewhat disconcertingly into the mud, and drove himself forward into Lyle’s warm and welcoming body.

As couplings went, it lacked finesse, and laughter was never far below the surface as Lester drove himself hard into his lover’s tight heat. Lyle squeezed around him and, with a surprised gasp, Lester came, his hips jerking convulsively before he rolled onto his side, his hand slithering over Lyle’s muddy cock as he proceeded to pull him over the edge as well.

Lyle twisted in his arms, lips seeking Lester’s for a breathless kiss, then they were laughing uncontrollably, bathed from head to foot in mud, Lyle’s head resting on Lester’s shoulder, hands entwined.

“It’s good for your complexion,” Lyle said, still snorting with laughter.

“I didn’t realise my cock had a complexion. And I warn you, if you tell Ralph about this you’ll be in the spare room for a week.”

“Can I put it in my caving log?”

“No, you bloody well can’t!”

Lyle straddled his hips and stared down at him, his expression serious for a moment, before he leaned down and pressed a light kiss to his lips. “I love you, James. You do know that, don’t you?”

In spite of the cold and the mud, and the absurdity of two grown men behaving like a couple of kids, Lester smiled. The constant banter coupled with the ever more inventive pet-names was his defence against the knowledge that the man he loved spent his working life in almost constant danger. The jokes were their way of trying to dispel that ever-present shadow.

He pulled Lyle down for a long, lazy kiss. “I love you, too, Jon. Now can we get dressed before my balls end up resembling a pair of very small prunes?”


End file.
